


My Kind Is Your Kind

by lizardkid



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-25 16:34:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20727323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizardkid/pseuds/lizardkid
Summary: In which Sadie grapples with the more confusing aspects of her life, and Molly realises what's good for her.





	My Kind Is Your Kind

**Author's Note:**

> Wait, they don't love you like I love you  
Wait, they don't love you like I love you
> 
> [Maps by Yeah Yeah Yeahs](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SNh1S7oP6qc)

The camp seemed to come to a complete standstill each time the malicious shouting arose from Dutch and Molly’s tent. Whether from morbid curiosity, genuine concern, or irritation, few among them could say. Sadie, for her part, cautiously occupied the ‘morbid curiosity’ third of camp, along with, at the very least, Sean, Pearson, and Kieran. Although, she suspected their curiosity had more to do with their lack of experience, whereas Sadie’s extended from precisely the opposite.

“I don’t get it,” she muttered gruffly to Sean, crossing her arms as she perched on the hitching post beside him. Sean clutched a cup of hot coffee to his chest, the sleep still encrusted about his shamrock-green eyes. Flat Iron Lake glittered beneath the fresh, blue morning sky; the perfect backdrop to the amateur dramatics that played out before them.

(“SO,” Molly exclaimed, “YOU’RE SPEAKING TO ME, AT LEAST.”)

“Ah,” he returned, swiping a lock of unkempt ginger hair from his eyes, “who the hell does.” Sadie grunted vaguely. “I reckon Molly just likes the attention.”

“Huh?”

(“HOW SELFISH ARE YOU?”)

“Yeah, it’s typical female behaviour, if you ask me. They just want everyone to feel sorry for them, even though they have it the best of all of us.”

Sadie turned to peer at him with unrestrained contempt, Sean’s particular configuration of pronouns catching her attention. After a few long moments of comedic ignorance, Sean realised his mistake and sent his coffee sloshing everywhere as he lowered it quickly from his lips. “No offence, o’course.” Sean didn’t look particularly apologetic, especially not with that shit-eating grin on his face. “Not that it matters to you.”

“And just _what_ is that supposed to mean, you Leprechaun shit?” Sadie hissed. Every muscle in her body tensed as she pushed away from the hitching post to plant her feet firmly on the ground.

Sean, bastard that he was, laughed heartily at her reaction, and jumped sideways to escape the attack he half-expected, spilling even more coffee in the process.

“Nothin’ really,” Sean said. “Just that, y’know, you been lookin’ more an’ more like a feller every day. You can see why it’d be confusin’.”

(“YOU’RE A BASTARD, DUTCH VAN DER LINDE.”)

The venom in Sadie’s scowl was enough to drive Sean away entirely, his free hand held up in mock placation as he muttered something unintelligible about women under his breath. Sadie was glad of it, as she wasn’t quite sure she could speak to respond. Shame blossomed in her chest, wound its long tendrils around her throat, and squeezed. Confusing, she thought to herself.

_Confusing_.

-

The next day, Sadie hovered awkwardly around the table opposite Dutch’s tent, eventually deciding on sitting down after a few side glances from other members of the camp. The men’s clothes that she wore emboldened her to act more like herself, and she sat with her legs splayed. One of them bounced up and down, jostling her entire frame as her forearms rested on her knees, her head in her hands. It must have been obvious that she was more irritable than usual, as nobody except Hosea spoke to her. She’d waved his concern away as kindly as she could, and then fixed her eye back upon the uninteresting blades of grass and cigarette butts beneath the table.

When Molly and Dutch finally emerged from the tent, neither speaking to the other, Sadie briefly lost any courage she’d felt. The fiery Irishwoman stood with her fan on the other side of the tent, her back to Sadie. The sunlight soaked into her auburn hair and made it blaze like a forest fire. Sadie’s breath caught somewhere in the back of her throat as she steeled herself and stood up.

What was that horrible, clawing feeling? Was it jealousy?

Sadie had never been like Molly. Sadie liked herself just fine as she was, but it was a constant battle. Sadie spent far too much time trying to convince everyone else that there was nothing unnatural about the way she acted, the way she spoke, the way she dressed.

Molly was picture perfect femininity: an ideal that Sadie could never hope to attain.

“Molly,” she said, when she found herself standing beside the woman in question, her own husky voice making her wince inwardly. Molly looked up in surprise, her emerald eyes wide, her ruby mouth ajar slightly. “Can I, um—can I have a word, Molly?”

Something sharp swam in Molly’s eyes that made Sadie’s stomach churn, but she forced herself to maintain the protective frown and clenched jaw. There was no malice in the look that Sadie could see, just fathoms and fathoms of deep, dark hurt.

“Sure,” Molly said slowly, and the pair wandered along the pier. Sadie cast a furtive glance behind them, but Dutch’s face was buried in a book. He hadn’t even noticed Sadie’s presence, let alone Molly’s absence. “What’s this about, Sadie? If you’re goin’ t’lecture me about doin’ chores—”

“No, no, it’s not—” Sadie began, unfolding her arms to place her hands on her hips instead, only to fold them again almost immediately. “I’m—it’s—” A heavy sigh punctuated her floundering. “Look,” she said, voice deepening, “I’m not great at words and all that but I just wanted you to know—you and Dutch—” Molly visibly tensed at the name but didn’t interrupt, “I just wanted you to know that if you need someone to talk to about it—you know, about the difficulties.”

Mimicking Sadie, Molly crossed her arms and held her shoulders tightly, as though containing an explosion. “The thing is,” she mumbled (and Sadie marvelled for a moment here at how Molly dropped ‘h’ from ‘thing’ as though that made any sense whatsoever), “It’s not _really_ any of your business, though, Sadie, is it?”

The sting was unexpected, and Sadie recoiled. “I—” The venom, the bitterness, the misplaced anger – it all felt far too familiar. It was defensive. But while Sadie recognised a part of herself in that voice, her own demons rose to meet Molly’s. Kindness was not something Sadie tended to dish out by the ladleful on account of the many times it had been thrown back in her face. “It kind of is my problem, though, Molly. It’s everyone’s fucking problem, ‘cause you and Dutch insist upon making it everyone’s fucking problem by screaming bloody murder at each other every hour of the fucking day.”

The searchlights in Molly’s eyes flickered and then shut off entirely. Sadie couldn’t bring herself to regret her outburst. Guilt was no longer something she indulged in. But the way Molly’s eyes had changed made something crumble within her, and before Molly could speak, she spoke instead.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly and quietly, not necessarily because she was, but because she knew Molly needed to hear it. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t—God, I said I weren’t no good at this. I’m just trying to help. I know—you know, what it’s like, to be treated badly. And I know what a healthy relationship looks like and that—that ain’t it, Molly.”

Molly looked as though she wasn’t sure whether to slap Sadie or storm away, so she stuck somewhere in the middle, doing neither.

“Do what you want, Molly, but don’t take it out on me. It may not be any of my _business_, but the offer is there. To talk. If you want.”

With that, Sadie turned on her heel and strode as calmly as possible back to camp. Her heart thumped furiously against her chest; her face redder than usual. Molly’s arms tightened infinitesimally against her chest as she watched Sadie’s receding form.

-

When Sadie slept, she dreamt of green. When she awoke, it was to the sound of a quiet voice repeating her name.

“Uh?” Sadie grunted, sitting up so suddenly that the world spun around her. Tilly snored beside her. Briefly, Sadie thought she had been hallucinating, and then the voice spoke again from outside the tent.

It was Molly.

“Molly?”

Sadie crawled forward and pushed the flap of her tent open.

“I’m sorry,” Molly said. Tears streamed down her face and her voice shook. “I’m sorry, I—I didn’t know where else to—”

“Hey,” Sadie murmured, looking about for any signs of other people, “it’s okay.” She hid a yawn behind her palm and shuffled onto her knees. “Are you… okay?” Still groggy from sleep, it was the best comfort she could offer on such short notice.

“N-not really,” Molly sniffed through quiet sobs, wiping snot onto the handkerchief she clutched in one hand. “Can I—can I stay with you—just for the night—Dutch, he’s—”

“Of course,” Sadie agreed, her voice as hushed as Molly’s, and moved to make room for her. Molly crawled on her hands and knees into the corner of the tent and Sadie shuffled into the middle of the two-person tent. “It’s probably not what you’re used to…” she whispered, watching helplessly as Molly tried to figure out what to do with her hands and her knees, looking more lost than Sadie had ever seen her. Her face was still wet from crying, and every now and then disguised a sob as a hiccup.

“Sadie?” Tilly’s sweet, lethargic voice drifted up from the other corner of the tent, her head popping up from the blankets as her sleep-addled mind tried to make sense of the situation.

“It’s alright, Tilly. Molly’s here—she—she and Dutch—”

Tilly blinked once, twice, thrice as her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she made out Molly’s shaking form. As easy as anything, Tilly ushered Molly toward her, her voice far gentler than Sadie’s could hope to be. Sadie hugged her knees to her chest to make room for Molly to crawl in between them. It was awkward and difficult, and Molly looked so out of place on the ground, her knees muddying with dirt, but Sadie reminded herself that it was where almost everyone else slept. Molly wasn’t special. Didn’t deserve special treatment. She felt her heart hardening as she watched Molly fall into Tilly’s kind embrace, berated herself for not having done the same.

“It’ll be okay, Molly, you just need to get some sleep. Things will be better in the morning,” Tilly murmured, and Sadie frowned, knowing the words were lies. Things would be exactly the same in the morning, but Molly nodded anyway, content with what she needed to hear. “Get some sleep now,” Tilly repeated. “You’re safe here.” The burden of that guarding that safety seemed to fall upon Sadie, judging by the look Tilly gave her when she uttered the word. It was a kind look, though. An understanding one. A look that made Sadie feel useful.

“Yeah,” she said belatedly, dumbly, looking down at Molly as she curled up between them. Her eyes wide and trusting. “Yeah, it’ll be okay.”

Sadie and Tilly repositioned themselves on the hard ground, finding what little comfort they could. As usual, Sadie ended up on her back, her hands resting on her stomach, face upturned to watch the shadows flicker on the canvas roof. She had a feeling she wouldn’t sleep well tonight, if the hot, steady simmering of her blood was anything to go by. Dutch van der Linde had an awful lot to answer for.

Eventually, Tilly’s snores filled up the silence of the tent. Sadie had assumed Molly would be asleep, too, when she turned her head to catch a glimpse of her sleeping face. But Molly’s eyes were open, watching Sadie, and unfazed by Sadie discovering her gaze. “Sadie,” she whispered, so quietly that it was almost inaudible. Their faces were inches apart, and even in the darkness, Sadie could see every freckle that adorned Molly’s cheeks. “Thanks.” Fondness welled up inside Sadie’s chest at the omitted letter once more. Sadie couldn’t find it in her to do anything but nod spasmodically, and even when Molly smiled blearily up at her, all she did was stare.

Perhaps it was too dark for Molly to notice, though, because she didn’t seem to mind. Instead, she shuffled a little closer to Sadie’s warm body and closed her tired eyes. Confusing, Sadie thought to herself.

_Confusing_.

And if Sadie awoke to find an arm thrown over her stomach and a face buried in the crook of her neck, then she wordlessly rearranged them to save Molly any embarrassment when she awoke.

-

“What’s Ireland like?” Sadie asked one day, a gun slung over her shoulder as she patrolled the camp borders. Recently, Molly had taken to tagging along on Sadie’s patrols every now and then.

“Don’t remember that well,” Molly replied, fiddling absent-mindedly with the intricate ruby necklace that hung around her neck. The jewel rested just above her cleavage, which Sadie had noticed and imagined was intentional, but reminded herself that it wasn’t intended for _her_ to notice. “I left when I was pretty young. Maybe eight or nine.”

Sadie raised an eyebrow at that. “S’funny. I heard you came here not so long ago.”

“Mm,” Molly agreed from the back of her throat, still fiddling with her necklace, still not looking Sadie in the eye. “That’s, erm. That’s what I tell people, but it’s not true. I guess I thought it sounded better than the reality. More magical.”

If Molly had wanted to elaborate, she would have. Sadie knew better than to press, so she tried to change the subject. “How come you still got that accent then?”

A shrug, a quiet sigh. “Dunno.” Silence, which Sadie bore more patiently than she bore anyone else’s silences. “That’s a lie. I do know,” Molly corrected, and cleared her throat. “People—everyone told me it was pretty. Made me feel special, you know? Men would—men liked it a lot.”

“What, when you were a child?” Sadie asked, though the pit in her stomach already knew the answer.

“Yeah,” Molly answered nonchalantly. “It made me feel sort of… beautiful. Rare, or something… I know it sounds stupid.”

With her heart stuttering to a halt in her chest, Sadie understood suddenly why Molly stayed with Dutch. “Molly,” she said very, very gravely, and stopped walking.

Molly stopped walking and finally looked at Sadie, the quiet, fearful vulnerability that shimmered in her green eyes visible for only a moment before it became something more concrete. She glanced around for some unseen threat that Sadie was surely about to point out. “What is it?”

Sadie said, softly, “You really are beautiful.”

Those wandering green eyes returned home suddenly, gawking at Sadie in disbelief. “What?” she uttered, barely louder than the wind and just as wild. They both looked afraid of Sadie’s words, of it having been Sadie who uttered them, of the many thousands of implications and possibilities that they had unleashed.

“I said, ‘you are beautiful’,” Sadie repeated, far more confident than she felt. “An’ I don’t just mean ‘cause of your accent, or that lipstick, or the corset you wear. I mean, you know. I mean everything. All of you. Everything you say and think. When you’re cryin’ and when you’re angry. When you don’t think nobody’s lookin’. I think you don’t even have to try to be beautiful, ‘cause you just… Are.” Sadie swallowed. “Beautiful.”

The last vestiges of Molly's carefully guarded veneer slipped away as she waited, wide-eyed and undone.

Molly’s lips were soft and strange when Sadie kissed her chastely, tilting her chin upward with gentle, guiding fingers. Sadie felt Molly shudder against her, and when they parted, her eyes were wet with tears. Without thinking, Sadie swiped them away with her thumb.

“Are we allowed to do that?” Molly asked, sounding like a child, and Sadie could not stopper the tears that welled in her own eyes.

“Yeah,” she croaked out. “Yeah, I reckon so.”

Molly looked unconvinced, her expression raw and apprehensive, but when her eyes dropped to Sadie’s lips, her face lit up. A bubble of earnest, husky giggles arose from her throat, an unselfconscious grin lighting up her entire face. Sadie had never heard her laugh like that, nor seen her smile like that, before. “I got lipstick on you,” she said. “Here.”

Molly’s thumb rubbed what it could of the red smear from Sadie’s lips. Then she paused.

And Sadie hardly dared to breathe, and Molly looked at Sadie as if for the first time, and in one another’s eyes, they found something soothing and familiar and electric.

And Sadie’s lips were stained with lipstick for a second time.

-

Night encroached on the camp slowly and peacefully. For the first time in a long time, Dutch had joined the rest of the gang around the campfire, and he was telling far-fetched stories that made everyone guffaw. He and Molly’s tent was empty, and it was, coincidentally, no longer he and Molly’s tent.

Molly and Sadie watched the chaos from their tent, huddled close. “He looks happy,” Sadie acknowledged, and Molly hummed softly.

“Funny how things work out.”

“_Tings_,” Sadie mocked gently. Molly made a show of acting offended by gawking at her partner and jabbing her in the ribs gently, but the irrepressible smile gave away the theatrics that underpinned it. The grin on Sadie’s face was almost identical, and eventually their soft laughter subsided, and they watched one another with small, knowing smiles.

“You are so handsome,” Molly said, entwining their hands atop her dress, between her crossed legs. The thrill it sent through Sadie was obvious, though she tried her best to restrain her delight. “My handsome girl,” Molly added, pouting. “My love.”

Despite herself, Sadie’s face flushed, and she dipped her head to hide it behind her hat. Molly was having none of that. The hat was promptly plucked from her head by Molly’s free hand and used instead to hide the kiss they shared from prying eyes. The kiss deepened, as it usually did, and the hands clasped on Molly’s lap grew heavier and heavier until they brushed against the skin of Molly’s thigh.

The sound Molly made sent an indecent shiver down Sadie’s spine. “I love you,” Sadie said, when she broke the kiss.

“I know,” Molly agreed. “Close the tent.”

Sadie did as she was told and realised that she would keep doing as she was told for as long as Molly kept telling. It was a warm feeling, that spread from her face to her neck and then further downward. It was a freeing feeling, that let her breathe deeper than she ever had. It was a good feeling, she decided, and there was nothing confusing about it.


End file.
